Clay Puppets - Inuyasha - PG13
Fandom: Inuyasha
Title: Clay Puppets
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 522
Notes: Angst. Naraku/Kagome. Posted April 25, 2005.
Summary: Her life is a word, which is truth, which is hope, and it beats in her decaying, betrayed heart.
Her life is a word, which is truth, which is hope, and it beats in her decaying, betrayed heart.
“I hate you.” A truth. It rises through her tender throat and pours from between her lips violently, like some sickness rotting deep inside her chest that she can’t keep locked in. She tugs on her shackled wrists and digs her fingers between her thighs in the dirt of her birth, the clay of her ancestry. This was where I came from, one upon a time, Kagome thinks, imagining a body sculpted of clay, brought to life in a single breath. She thinks she can remember man’s heart beating wildly against dirt ribs, a perpetual cry for freedom, an unfaltering truth.
I am alive. I am alive.
He knows this. He knows everything.
From beyond the jagged ridge of her bangs he stands, silhouetted in the flicker of candle light. Her admission is poison and makes his lips stretch tight against his pearly teeth, not a smile, never a smile, because a smile is something happy, something beautiful, which he is not. Perhaps it is something else, something equally as dangerous.
He is alive.
He comes closer. She scrambles away. When he is kneeling beside her, towering over her, she is pressed against the wall so tightly the stone is biting into her skin.
He is alive.
“I loathe you,” she whispers, a truth. His cool breath curves intimately across her brow and she feels violently sick.
“I know.” A slick black finger traces the curve of her cheek, and when her skin parts smoothly, like the red sea, his not-smile curves to a smirk, which teeters on deceptively tender and beautifully horrifying.
Maybe both.
“I wish you would suffer,” she spits.
“I know.”
“I wish you would hurt,” she cries.
“I know.”
Truthtruthtruthtruth. So concentrated on her truths, she doesn’t notice the hand he trails down her spine, nor the thigh he slides between her legs. No. She is trying to forget.
“How dare you kill them! How dare you live!” she is saying, a vehement whisper against his pale throat. He should die. Diediedie. Right here, right now, a stab through the heart, a rock to his skull, a fire to his flesh, anything.
But when he pulls back to look at her, the poison on her tongue curdles. Her heart skips a beat.
He is smiling.
He is happy.
“How dare you,” he says, softly, and it is over. How dare I live. How dare I live.
A truth, a hope…
But she starts to cry.
“I will kill you, Kagome. I can be merciful,” he mumbles, and then his mouth is over hers, and her screams are his alone, filling him so neatly in a single, terrified breath. Between his kiss and his promise, she crumbles with realization, shattering along the arch of dirt beneath her fingers, the beginning where all terrible roads return.
She thinks she could once remember man’s heart beating against dirt ribs, but now she can’t hear beyond the din of her own.
I will kill you.
I can be merciful.
A lie.
Title: Clay Puppets
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 522
Notes: Angst. Naraku/Kagome. Posted April 25, 2005.
Summary: Her life is a word, which is truth, which is hope, and it beats in her decaying, betrayed heart.
Her life is a word, which is truth, which is hope, and it beats in her decaying, betrayed heart.
“I hate you.” A truth. It rises through her tender throat and pours from between her lips violently, like some sickness rotting deep inside her chest that she can’t keep locked in. She tugs on her shackled wrists and digs her fingers between her thighs in the dirt of her birth, the clay of her ancestry. This was where I came from, one upon a time, Kagome thinks, imagining a body sculpted of clay, brought to life in a single breath. She thinks she can remember man’s heart beating wildly against dirt ribs, a perpetual cry for freedom, an unfaltering truth.
I am alive. I am alive.
He knows this. He knows everything.
From beyond the jagged ridge of her bangs he stands, silhouetted in the flicker of candle light. Her admission is poison and makes his lips stretch tight against his pearly teeth, not a smile, never a smile, because a smile is something happy, something beautiful, which he is not. Perhaps it is something else, something equally as dangerous.
He is alive.
He comes closer. She scrambles away. When he is kneeling beside her, towering over her, she is pressed against the wall so tightly the stone is biting into her skin.
He is alive.
“I loathe you,” she whispers, a truth. His cool breath curves intimately across her brow and she feels violently sick.
“I know.” A slick black finger traces the curve of her cheek, and when her skin parts smoothly, like the red sea, his not-smile curves to a smirk, which teeters on deceptively tender and beautifully horrifying.
Maybe both.
“I wish you would suffer,” she spits.
“I know.”
“I wish you would hurt,” she cries.
“I know.”
Truthtruthtruthtruth. So concentrated on her truths, she doesn’t notice the hand he trails down her spine, nor the thigh he slides between her legs. No. She is trying to forget.
“How dare you kill them! How dare you live!” she is saying, a vehement whisper against his pale throat. He should die. Diediedie. Right here, right now, a stab through the heart, a rock to his skull, a fire to his flesh, anything.
But when he pulls back to look at her, the poison on her tongue curdles. Her heart skips a beat.
He is smiling.
He is happy.
“How dare you,” he says, softly, and it is over. How dare I live. How dare I live.
A truth, a hope…
But she starts to cry.
“I will kill you, Kagome. I can be merciful,” he mumbles, and then his mouth is over hers, and her screams are his alone, filling him so neatly in a single, terrified breath. Between his kiss and his promise, she crumbles with realization, shattering along the arch of dirt beneath her fingers, the beginning where all terrible roads return.
She thinks she could once remember man’s heart beating against dirt ribs, but now she can’t hear beyond the din of her own.
I will kill you.
I can be merciful.
A lie.